Snow Is Falling
by PigsFlyWithEleanor
Summary: What if the Hunger Games with Capitol children actually happened? SIF follows Heather Snow, the granddaughter of the late president as she is entered into the Games...   The Capitol Games have finally begun. R&R the Bloodbath please!
1. Chapter 1

**Kay so. This is my first ever fanfic! Whoop!**

**I do not own the Hunger Games. All characters so far apart from Katniss and President Snow are mine.**

**Follow me on Twitter (blatant self promotion!): /FlyingPig28**

Somehow, I've got a feeling that I won't be waking up in this bed again.

How long have the Capitol children been dreading this day? How long have the rebels been looking forward to it? Today's the day of the Hunger Games Reaping. Nothing new. It's located at the same time of year – I, of all people, should know that! 24 children are still picked to compete. 1 will come out alive. No changes in the rules, not like the Mockingjay Games. There is one difference though. No poor child from the Districts will compete this year. No, this year, the loss will come from the Capitol. 24 children will be pulled from the security of the Capitol. And – just a hunch, you understand – I have a feeling, a terrible premonition, that I will be one of them.

My name is Heather Snow, and my grandfather was the President of Panem until recently.

Suddenly, I have an urge to get up. An urge to get up and have the Reaping over and done with. I could just run into the perfect streets – well, as perfect as they could be after rebels laid waste to them – and pound on the perfect doors and yell to the perfect people that yes, I am Snow's granddaughter and yes, I will go into the Hunger Games! It's unavoidable! Even though the Mockingjay is far away in District Twelve, she continues to wreak havoc here. Although, pretty soon, she'll be coming up here to draw the Reaping. Another inevitable event.

Come to think of it, this whole freaking _day_ was inevitable. Surely, at some point or another, my grandfather's power over the Districts would fall. Sure, he didn't see it coming, but when I was standing at his side looking out at the citizens of my home town, I knew it would come. I saw the looks in those people's eyes during the Mockingjay Games. I saw the glint of anger there as they watched two lovers go through hell, just to be with each other. Twice. Literally in one case – the Gamemakers tried to fry Katniss one time. Hey, I was in the Control Room with them! As they sat there and joked about 'The Girl On Fire', I watched the quieter ones in there. I saw the self loathing in their eyes whenever we made eye contact. So it was practically written that this day would come. My own anger fuels up inside of me as I sit down and gaze at myself in the ornate mirror. I look practically demonic. My brown hair is falling over my face as I scream into my fists, half covering my eyes so they look narrowed. The elaborate nail polish that my Aunty had applied in a moment of madness a few days ago was already chipped – escaping into the trees behind our house does that to them. Not to mention the fact that one of the fake eyelashes – again, my Aunty - had been ripped off, seemingly in the middle of the night. My Aunty and Uncle tried so hard to make me a stereotypical Capitol citizen, but ever since the death of my Grandfather, well, that plan had gone downhill. I wasn't the type of girl that liked to alter her body in the most radical ways possible and live in front of her mirror. However, I was willing to gaze at myself for a while now. Would I look different after the Games? Probably.

Then I glanced at the clock above my head.

No. No way.

In half an hour my name would probably be pulled out of a glass ball.

I flew out of my seat, once again fuelled by my sudden anger. Pausing at the ornate wardrobe – my father's, surprisingly – I took a few moments to pick something suitable grand. Normally I wouldn't even pause for breath outside this thing, but today my anger was determined to present a beautiful young adult to Panem. Eventually, I picked out an old-ish dress of my Aunties': a blue silk number that hugged my body. To tell the truth, it looked pretty nice... if it weren't for the little rosebud perched merrily on my left shoulder. I flicked it in pure disgust – to my annoyance, it didn't affect the damn thing in the slightest – before yanking open the door and heading downstairs.

Half an hour later I was stood outside the large house that belonged to my Aunty and Uncle with a number of other girls. I wasn't the oldest one there, by a mile – there seemed to be an abundance of sixteen year old girls here. I was only fourteen. The middle ground for the Hunger Games contestants. I turned my eyes away from one such girl who was looking me up and down with a sense of distaste on her face – although she was freaking terrified, I could tell by her eyes – and focussed them on the stage. Yup, Katniss Everdeen had showed up, in the middle of two glass balls. I know that, in all the other streets and plazas and marketplaces here in the Capitol, the same thing is happening. But why do we get the Mockingjay?

I wonder, has my name already been picked out or is it just lying on the top?

Looking uncomfortable, and with a slight tremor in her voice as she announces "Ladies first!", she digs her hand into the first glass ball. This surprises me. How is she supposed to pick my name out from that? A brief flicker of hope goes through me, followed by anger, not just at myself, but at the rebels who caused me such turmoil this morning.

"Heather Snow."

The flame dies. And I realise something.

I can't do this.

The anger fuelling me this morning has flown away completely, and for a minute I am completely lost. Not in the crowd of people as I push through them, but in myself. I'm fourteen! I can't go in there! How can I possibly survive this? And then I'm up on the stage, barely listening as a seventeen year old boy called Sunbeam – haa – is picked out, barely listening to the ring of silence in my ears as volunteers are called for.

Then I catch Katniss' eye and my attitude changes.

I'm going to do this. I'm going to win the last ever Games.

I'm going to prove that the Snow family hasn't fallen yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews! So here it is, Chapter Two. I know, I know, I'm a fast writer. Slightly longer the last one – I want all the prep stuff out of the way quickly xD Keep reading and reviewing please! :D You'll get cookies.**

**I do not own the Hunger Games. All characters in the chapter apart from Katniss (plus the unnamed dead Careers mentioned in this chapter xP) belong to me.**

**Follow me on Twitter: /FlyingPig28**

Silently, the gleaming hovercraft descends, being tracked by 24 pairs of eyes. The Capitol Tributes. I haven't even taken the time to look at them yet. Not properly, anyway. I know that we're being watched too, by pretty much everyone – mums, dads, grandparents, friends... aunties, uncles...

"We'll sponsor you." Going against all stereotypes, it's my Auntie who's speaking calmly here, leaving my Uncle to be the blubbering wreck. I resist rolling my eyes at him – slightly inappropriate, even for me – and focus on my Auntie. "If we can." She continues. Her lip trembles and – in a completely out of character gesture – I reach forward and clutch her tightly, burying my face the best I can in her silk dress. I can tell she's surprised and a little bit startled, but to her credit she takes it in her stride, stroking my hair. Oh no, don't do that... my mother used to do that... What are the Games doing to us, to me? Everyone is changing, and no-ones even set foot in the blasted arena yet.

I break away and move to my Uncle. He's composed himself enough now to clasp my hand. "Yes, Heather, we'll sponsor you. I know your parents would too if they were here." A weak smile. "And God help anyone who doesn't." I have to laugh at that, partly because I actually find my Uncle's humour amusing, and partly as a self test to see how I'm coping. Hmm. If I can laugh without my voice catching or tears working their way down my face, I must be doing okay. Better than the boy on my left is. He's completely breaking down in front of his mother's eyes, which must be so _nice _for the poor woman. They're a pure Capitol family if ever I saw one. The boy is, what, about thirteen? He's already had an intricate pattern of jewels embedded on the side of his face. Sure, I might get weird looks from some Capitol women because I'm 100% natural – apart from whatever embellishments my Auntie has recently forced me to try – but he must get stranger looks. Surely? A quick glance along the oddly formal line of tributes saying their goodbyes reveals that this boy is the most dramatic. I bet he won't last two seconds in the Games. Then again, I shouldn't judge. Hell, I've watched enough Games in my years.

Times up. As if to remind us that it's there, the hovercraft doors slide open. It's too much for my Uncle, and I put up with tears falling onto my head as I hug him goodbye. I don't promise to see them again. Nothings definite for me now, nothings set in stone. Although there's probably a tribute somewhere I haven't spotted with something actually set in stone... a quick clasp of my Auntie's hand and I'm boarding the hovercraft.

Time to check out the competition.

As if I'm doing nothing but simply reclining in the seat, I lean my head back and cast my eyes around. The male tribute – Sunbeam – who was picked along with me is sitting there with his head in his hands. I wonder why he was called Sunbeam? Oh wait, could be something to do with his bright yellow hair. Well, that's going to be great for camouflage! I wonder if he can pick up the waves of sarcasm from right across the hovercraft...

Donia Castillo! Interesting... to tell the truth – if you want to get _really _picky – she isn't actually a Capitol child at all. She's originally from District One. A pang goes through me as I look her over. Her eyes are unfocussed, and she occasionally smiles or nods, which instantly gives away the fact that she's talking to 'Tom'.

He died in the Hunger Games four years ago, along with her sister Sophie.

It's actually quite tragic, and it's a rare breed of story that actually threatens me with tears. Both her younger sister and brother were picked as the tributes that fateful year. Sophie was killed in the bloodbath. Tom, however, lasted four days... until his ally turned on him and attacked him in his sleep. Yeah, Donia kinda went downhill mentally after that. She loved Tom. She loved Tom to pieces. The Capitol broke her heart, taking him away. Hence why she hears his 'voice' in her head. Doesn't rule her out from being a decent fighter though. Considering she managed to kill at least half the Peacekeepers in One to avenge Tom's death before being sold to the Capitol. Literally. Still, she might make a decent ally.

Guess Tom's story hasn't taught me anything.

Suddenly I can't stand sitting still any longer, so I get up, relishing the relief on my legs. Donia frowns at me as I pass by, and in response I just raise an eyebrow. If there has to be an outcast that isn't me, it'll be her. What with coming from a District and all. I slide open the door leading to the pilot's controls. Zander's been in my life for a few years now, and as a result we get on relatively okay. Though I never imagined he'd be taking _me_ to compete in the Games.

"Hey, Zander." Zander takes a quick glance at me before returning to the controls. He grins though. "Heather." Then he frowns. "Why are you up here?"

I shrug. "Couldn't stand being cooped up any longer? It's not like I'm not allowed to come up here. My family still has power, ya know." This could be a complete lie – I haven't actually bothered to check the situation. "Or are you worried I'm going to throw your concentration?" I make a move, as if to shove him, making him laugh.

"I don't mean like that. I mean you should be back there making friends. Allies." A pause as he tilts the craft left to take it on a new course. "It's going to be an interesting year, Heather. Capitol children, no mentors, maybe even no sponsors."

My Auntie's words come back to me. _"We'll sponsor you. If we can."_ And I know he's right. Without a decent ally, I don't have much hope. Then again, do I anyway?

Keeping silent, I turn and head for the door. Zander doesn't speak, but he smiles and glances at me to communicate his approval. I'll miss Zander. He's a good guy, despite him being stuck piloting this damn craft. He always came to my parent's house after the Games ended, slightly in shock after having to navigate through the arena and pick up twisted and deformed bodies, and my mother would fix him a comforting hot meal. Again, I felt a rush of hatred towards Katniss. Lets see... a grossly deformed District One tribute permanently scarred from tracker jacker venom. A boy from District Two, skinned alive with no remaining limbs. And a boy from District One with blood spurting out of his neck, an arrow sticking out of it at an odd angle.

Will Zander be picking my body up in this hovercraft? How deformed will I be?

Lost in my own thoughts, I return to my seat, and this time I smile at Donia. After a hesitation, she smiles back, and although it's a bit of a slasher smile, it's still a friendly gesture. Banishing all thoughts of death from my head, I glance out of the window at the building below. The Training Centre.

This time it's me giving the slasher smile. Time for some fun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Longest chapter ever. I'm getting into this xP Kayso, it's long because I want all this Training stuff out of the way, and the next chapter's going to be really cool ^^ R&R please!**

**I do not own the Hunger Games. All characters in this chapter apart from Katniss belong to me.**

**Follow me on Twitter: search for FlyingPig28**

If I had control over the Hunger Games, I'd definitely speed up the Training Sessions. Hell, I'd speed up the prep time overall.

It was turning out to be a long morning of training for all of the Capitol tributes. Well, the first few minutes or so had consisted of all of the tributes standing and staring in complete shock – except for Donia, natch - at the various weapons and equipment lying around, like they had never seen something as simple as a knife before in their entire lives. Come to think of it, they had probably only seen one on TV when the Games were being televised – and who knows how bad the coverage was? I had only ever watched from the control room. Eventually though, I got sick of the silence, occasionally punctuated by Donia stabbing the hell out of a dummy, and entered the fray myself. Pretty much every standard weapon was there: knifes, axes, spears, even a couple of freaking guns. Intrigued, I picked one up, testing the weight. As if I was just freaked out by this... thing that I had never seen before in my life, I tilted it this way and that. Really, I was trying to discover where the trigger was. Must be a Peacekeeper model...

I put the gun down after a few minutes to move onto other pursuits. A couple of the tributes were taking this whole thing in their stride now – one boy who must be about my age was proving himself to be pretty damn useful with an axe. Question was, of course, stay clear or make friends? Being around Donia and going through her story in my head had made me think twice about Zander's advice... I made a decision, and walked straight past the kid towards the targets. I wasn't planning to reveal too much about myself – it was a known tactic, one that had been taken to the extreme by someone, Johanna I think, some time ago. Dear God, my memory was slipping. I should remember her name, for crying out loud. She'd been in the Capitol not so long ago... I drowned out the screams ringing in my head by flinging a knife at the dummy nearest to me, where it embedded itself with a satisfying thunk.

Time passed. We ate food. Made small talk between people we occasionally passed. It was small talk for a reason – we all knew that at some point, we were all going to end up in that arena, ready to tear each other to pieces. The only conversations that passed beyond a smile and a couple of nods were between me and Donia and, surprisingly, me and my good ol' friend Sunbeam. He seemed pretty wary – couldn't blame him really – but once we got past that hurdle, we actually got on okay. The two tributes from the Capitol Centre.

When I turned to leave, however, I pushed him from my mind.

* * *

Most of the tributes had already carried through their Private Sessions. As no-one came from a District this year – not officially, anyway – it wasn't a difficult step for the Gamemakers to take to have us go in alphabetically. I'd carried out a quick survey and discovered that I was third from last, surprisingly, just after Chantelle Sinistra from the bottom end of the Capitol and before Kai Tundale – the crying boy with the diamonds on his face - from the Upper Capitol. We were hovering around the M's now – Sunbeam (who I had just discovered possessed the surname Marina. Dear God.) had just left the room, a smile on his face. He'd taken a suitable amount of time, unlike Donia. She'd entered the room third, only to exit a few moments later, saying "They already know what I can do."

How many Peacekeepers didn't?

Chantelle getting up returned me to the real world. As she entered, I rested my head on my hands and turned to look at Kai. "So, uh, Kai." Way to sound confident, Heather. Startled, he turns to look at me.

"W-why are you even talking t-to me?" I can't help but wince at his stutter. Oh my God. He's not going to last two seconds. For a moment or so I consider breaking up the conversation here, but the only other person to talk to is a hulking boy who would definitely pass as a Career, had he come from a District. I decide to stick with Kai.

"Just making conversation. Who knows how long she's going to be in there." I jerk my head towards the door.

"D-do you think you've g-got a chance?" Hm. What an odd question... I shrug in response, not really wanting to answer. Thankfully, Chantelle returns at that point, which is my cue to enter the Training Room once more.

I enter the room and face the Gamemakers. Part of me wonders why they're even on board – we are Capitol children, after all – but I'm willing to ignore it. The thing that kills me, however, is that I've grown up with some of these men, watched them torture other Tributes. And now it's my turn to go under the spotlight.

Okay, confession time. I actually have an advantage over these other kids.

When the rebellion first started, Snow started getting a _little_ bit worried about his safety. Although he pretty much had Katniss where he wanted her – at the start, anyway – he was a little... paranoid, shall we say? So he wanted more security. But instead of hiring the beefy Careers from District Two and the like, which would have shown the citizens something was up, he trained me as an assassin of sorts instead.

After all, who better to train that someone who is almost always by your side and wouldn't raise any suspicion?

Indeed, they seem a bit wary as I enter the room and pick up the first thing I see: a knife. Slipping it up the sleeve of the top that had miraculously appeared this morning – blessed be the gods – I turned so I was facing the Gamemakers head on.

And I waited.

The key to attacking is to wait until your opponent least expects something to happen. So, just when two or three looked a bit bored, I whipped the knife out and flung it at the dummy furtherest away from me, where it made a satisfying thunk. Exactly as practised. I allowed myself a quick grin and a drink in of their stunned faces before scanning the room, eventually locating one of the Peacekeeper guns from earlier. Oh, they're _really_ wary now. In all honesty, I can see why. A young girl picking up a gun she's probably never seen before in her life and attempting to fire it? They were probably worrying that they were going to lose a tribute before the Games had even started.

Which is why they were probably surprised when the dummy was splattered with bullets.

* * *

"So, Heather." I turn around to see Donia coming up behind me. "A score of 10, huh?"

I shrug. Donia had received a score of 8, which was completely weird. "Yeah... you should have got the same though, really."

Donia's turn to shrug, but there's a smile on her face. "Maybe. Tom keeps blaming himself though."

And then I know. It's because of her mental state that she didn't get a higher score.

I open my mouth to speak, but Donia's moved on. I know where she's going. We're meant to wait until we're sent for to head off for the interviews, but obviously Donia's shot that idea down in flames. I resume my previous position: head titled back, eyes rolled upward, completely flopped in the chair. Oh, if only my Aunty could see me now...

"You ready, Heather?" A voice jerks me upright. Some woman I've never seen before is looking down at me. Nodding, I spring upright and follow her down the hallway of the Training Centre. After a few awkward moments of silence, we pass a mirror. There's a vase underneath it, with some flowers. "Wait a sec."

I pluck one of the flowers out of the vase, rip off most of the stalk – replacing it in the vase, how inconsiderate of me – and fix it in my hair before glancing in the mirror and grinning. My dark brown hair makes the white of the rose stand out even more. Perfect... "I'm ready now." I say, more to myself than to the women. We continue on down the hallway, me with a sudden confidence boost now the rose is firmly fixed in my hair.

Eventually we come to a row of seats. I'm the last one there, natch, but I don't say anything. I just sit down next to Sunbeam, who raises an eyebrow at my new hair accessory. I do the same in response and watch the first tribute – again, we're being called in alphabetical order – take to the stage. Guess I missed the introduction.

Then I hear Katniss Everdeen's voice come from the stage. Absent-mindedly, I touch the rose in my hair.

Oh, this is going to be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Nearly at the Hunger Games, people. Watch this space – it does tricks - and keep R&R :)**

**Follow me on Twitter: search for FlyingPig28**

* * *

"Scared?"

"Nope." I lie to Sunbeam, who just grins and focuses his attention on the stage, where a feeble looking girl is talking to a certain Katniss Everdeen. Now it's my turn to grin. This is going to be _really_ interesting. Heaven knows how I'm going to present myself to the Capitol citizens. The District citizens too – no doubt about it, they'll be watching. Mentally, I go through a couple of possibilities in my head. Zander was true to his word; we received no prepping and no mentors. Boy, I'd love to meet the person who came up with _that_ bright idea. And possibly fling them in the arena with me, to add one more kill to my total.

Funny? Nah, no chance. Sexy? Pfft. Bloodthirsty? Donia will already have that down to a tee, if she doesn't break down and lose it before she goes on stage. That happened last night, around 1:00am- everyone was woken up to a scream, and further inspection revealed the poor girl curled up in bed sobbing her heart out and screaming for her siblings. A couple more options flash through my head. Witty? Possible, although the outcome of that approach depends on whatever Katniss asks me. I file that idea away for later use. Oh, come ON Heather!

Suddenly I know. I'm just going to be myself.

My new tactic sorted, I watch Sunbeam's interview. From here, his bright yellow hair is even more striking, so I can only imagine how it looks from the audience. Surprisingly, I find myself admitting that he looks... pretty damn good, actually. I'll try and avoid him in the arena, I wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of Sunbeam Marina...

No. NO. I will NOT develop feelings for anyone, not even potential allies. Sunbeam is another tribute. He may or may not die in the arena. His fate is beyond my control, unless I kill him myself. Which, when the right time comes, I will be aiming to do.

I think I'm protesting a little too much. This is ridiculous – how did my grandfather manage to be so uncaring and... distant to everyone?

Chantelle comes down from the stage, after portraying herself as a stinking bitch. Interesting tactic... I'd love to stay and work mine out for a while. However, my time is up. I mount the stage.

When I walk on, I know that Katniss is slightly taken aback by the white rose in my hair – as intended – but, to her credit, she hides it well. I learnt from my grandfather that she often doesn't understand other peoples emotions. Something to use, maybe? I grin at her as I sit down. With any luck, she'll realise that it was a gesture of sarcasm then of friendliness. After a few moments, she begins.

"So, Heather." I hate the way she says my name. 'Hevva.' Her hand clenches. "Snow's granddaughter." It's not a question, but Katniss seems to feel the need to throw it out into the open anyway. So I respond with a nod and a smile.

"Yes, and I'm sure he's watching over me and rooting for me to win." The statement's nice enough in the ears of the audience, but only Katniss can see my narrowed eyes that make the statement a jibe.

"What's it like in your part of the Capitol? Go on, tell the audience what you think." I glance at the Capitol citizens.

"Well, I live with my Aunty and Uncle in the Upper Capitol, because my parents... died. They died the rebel attack." This is partially true, but of course I'm embellishing it for sympathy. Sympathy = sponsors. "And then of course my grandfather died, and..." Murmurs come from the audience. I give a weak smile towards the crowd, as if I'm about to burst into tears. With any luck, I look convincing instead of fake...

"What are your Aunty and Uncle like then?" Hm. Seems that Katniss likes the topic of family. Interesting, considering hers... I lick my lips as I think of an answer. I'm going to have to think of something that keeps up with the image of myself I'm portraying. "Well, my Uncle... he's a big crybaby." I grin, and thankfully I get a few laughs. "But I love him really. It's just one of his... qualities? Yes, that's the word. That's just... him." I look out at the audience and smile. No doubt my Uncle is out there somewhere. As is my Aunty... "My Aunty, she... well, she's probably in slight shock at the fact I put these fake eyelashes on." Another laugh. Seems the slightly sarcastic touch is working. "If she hasn't already fainted." I glance out at the audience. "I can't see her. Mind you don't step on her, yeah?" I've practically won the audience over now. So I glance at Katniss and mouth "Balls in your court." If she was trying to catch me out or get the audience to hate me, she failed.

She bats it back. "A score of ten, huh? Do you now think you have a chance in light of that?"

Ohhhh. It's war now.

I bat my false eyelashes and lean forward. "I did an experiment in school once, Katniss. We had to try and put out a fire. But, try as we might, nothing could put it out." A pause for dramatic effect. There's no noise from the audience, who are eager to see where I'm going with this. I smile and continue. "Eventually, someone had the bright idea of putting some snow on the fire. Yes, it melted a bit, but eventually-" I break into a full on grin. "The fire went out. Snow beat fire."

Wham! The Girl On Fire put the ball in my court and I utterly destroyed it. "My point is, even the most unlikely of things can come out on top." The crowd are cheering and I raise an eyebrow at Katniss. Think of a response now, bitch. Unfortunately, my time runs out. In a moment of inspiration, I pull the white rose out of my hair and, directly facing Katniss as I stand up, take a deep smell of its beautiful scent before throwing it out into the audience. My work is done. I verbally defeated Katniss. Any sponsors gained are a bonus.

I really need to sort out my priorities.

* * *

"You were great."

Turning around, I see Sunbeam smiling at me. I go to smile back, but shut the feeling down in light of my earlier thoughts. Instead I just nod and go to open my door. "Thanks. You were too." In his interview, Sunbeam had portrayed himself as a cocky, just plain arrogant boy. For all I know, he could be. I'm willing to go with this train of thought for now.

He gives a small laugh and runs a hand through his hair. "You're really something, huh?"

I whip round. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean you're the whole package. Snow's granddaughter, Capitol tribute, one of the highest scores... what did you do to get that score, anyway?"

My face is blank. "We're not supposed to talk about our Private Sessions. If everything else is going to be broadcast to the public, I'd rather keep something to myself." And with that, I open the door of my assigned room and slam it in his face.

I instantly regret being so harsh. But I have to remind myself that, this time tomorrow, he will be my enemy. He'll be another person in the way of me getting out alive. I don't know how long he'll last for, but one thing is for certain: I'll be out to kill him.

I can't risk getting to know him too well.

Sighing, I take a quick shower – unlike the people from the Lower Capitol (and Donia), I'm familiar with these showers – before getting changed and sinking into bed. I'd better make the most of it. For tomorrow, my bed will probably be some leaves, if I'm lucky. Who knows what the arena will be like? It could be underwater for all I know. God, I hope not... I can't swim. I will be quite literally sunk. Ba dum tish.

"Oh Sunbeam." I whisper to the ceiling. "You were right. I AM scared."


	5. Chapter 5

**The Capitol Games have started. About time too xD Keep R&R please – thanks to Pandaswithbazookas who constantly reviews. Heather salutes you!**

**I do not own the Hunger Games. All character in this chapter apart from Katniss, Peeta, and Snow belong to me. **

**Interesting fact: This chapter was written during a a snow day. SNOW. Guess the weather knows the Games have started.**

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* * *

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Life's a funny thing. One minute you're lying in your own bed, the next you're standing on a metal plate about to enter a fight to the death.

The clear shield had just come up around me as the plate prepared to transport a certain Heather Snow up to the starting line of The Hunger Games. Idly, I tapped out a small tune on the glass while I waited. I'd replaced the white rose in my hair after throwing my first out the audience. I considered it my special token. And, as a bonus, it actually worked with the tribute outfit that had somehow been dumped on my bedroom floor and was now hugging my body. It was jet black, making the white of the rose brighter in comparison. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea... then again, I should probably count myself lucky there weren't such things as orange roses. That would just scream "I'm here! Come and kill me!", and conflict horribly with the black to boot...

As I feel the metal plate shudder and begin to move, a memory comes back to me. Katniss and Peeta had just won their Games, and my grandfather was going to present the crown to them. I was the one holding the damn thing. I was standing there – I was, what, about 12 or 13? - with a fake smile on my face as the crown was split in half and presenting, without a clue as to what was going to happen. Without a clue that I was going to end up in the Games one day.

This time, though, Katniss is going to be giving the crown to me.

I've reached the top now, and the arena is revealed to me. Hm. It seems... normal? No. There has to be some twist, hidden somewhere. But no. The Cornucopia is sitting pretty in the middle. There's a forest and a lake. Nothing to swim across – thank god - like in the Quarter Quell that had disastrous results. No snow or ice. So what is there? Maybe the rebel Gamemakers aren't very imaginative...

The sixty seconds begins.

I glance around after giving up trying to figure out this arena. I'm in-between Kai and Chantelle, but they're both some distance away from me. Donia's about six tributes away from me. She doesn't look scared, unlike Kai. Nope, she's actually grinning. _Grinning_. Still, she is technically a Career... speaking of, the large boy who could also pass for a Career is standing next to her. In contrast, though, he's showing no emotion whatsoever, although I bet as soon as these seconds are up he'll be lunging for whatever weapons he can find, as will Sunbeam. He's standing the furthest away from me, his yellow hair standing to attention. They'll pick off the weaker looking ones first like Kai. And me.

Still, they don't know about my assassin training.

Speaking of weapons... I learnt pretty quickly in the Training Sessions that I'm hopeless with a bow and arrow. Ditto axes. Spears I'm okay with, as long as they're small ones. No, my true strength lies with knives and, surprisingly, the Peacekeeper guns. I scout around for them. No guns lie in my range of site right now, but I can see a couple of knives dotted around the place. Of course, the ones closest to me are crap. And then of course there are supplies. My best bet is probably the small blue backpack that lies next to a decent looking knife. I'll pick up some more stuff later...

Ringing fills my ears and I dart forwards.

The mystery of the arena forgotten, I make a beeline for the blue backpack. Chantelle, who seems to have picked up a rock or something on the way over, makes a swipe at me. I grab her arm and twist it around, still running, causing her to cry out and drop behind me. Finally, I reach the backpack and swing it up onto one of my shoulders, picking up the knife lying next to it. It's not fantastic, but it'll have to do. Turning around, I see a boy advancing on me pretty damn quickly with a knife of his own. I have no option other than to tackle him. Which I do. The backpack's still only on one shoulder, and it's _really_ heavy, so I use that as a weapon. The swing catches the boy in the chest and he staggers backwards, only slightly winded. I repeat the attack... and he disappears. Literally.

What?

I take a step forward and see he's lying in a pit at my feet. Without hesitation, I jump down into it myself, landing on top of him. Quickly, I locate his neck and make a cut over a major artery. I don't need a cannon to tell me that he's dead. Now the question is, how to get out of here?

Hang on. The mystery of the arena is solved.

Lying underneath the arena is a network of tunnels. The boy – who's lying in a pool of his own blood at my feet – stepped backwards and fell into a concealed opening... brilliant. Maybe there _is _a spark in the Gamemakers after all. I look to my left and see a dark tunnel branching off and leading somewhere unknown. With the black of the tribute outfit, I'll be near invisible.

I've completely forgotten that the Bloodbath is going on around me.

Suddenly my hair is being yanked backwards and Chantelle's face looms into view. I can't struggle because it hurts too much. Hell! I grit my teeth and attempt to fight back, ignoring the tugging pain. Chantelle's still sticking with her rock, it seems, and she's about to bring it down on my head and crush my skull before her arm is grabbed and twisted round. Again. But not by me this time.

Donia's grabbed hold of Chantelle's neck now, and is slowly tightening her hold. She catches my eye and I understand instantly. Gripping the knife, I wait until Chantelle's goes still before sticking the knife in-between two of her ribs, twisting it for good measure before pulling it out. The girl falls onto the boy and lies still. I expect to feel some grief – after all, I've ended two lives in less than five minutes – but there's nothing. Just... satisfaction. I glance up at Donia, expecting her to turn on me now. She just smirks and grabs my hand, pulling me towards the left. I barely have time to adjust my pack – god, this thing is HEAVY! - before I'm forced into a sprint. What the hell is going on? Does she want to finish me away from the Bloodbath? Or maybe... I remember the friendly attitude we've had toward each other in the last week and think differently. Could I have really gained an ally five minutes into the Games? Possibly... hey, I'm not complaining.

Eventually, after stumbling blindly through the pitch black tunnels, we come to a rest in an open cavern, flopping down onto the floor. There's a small shaft of light coming in through a concealed hole above us – hopefully, no-one will fall into it. I speak first as I shrug off the god damn backpack. "Hey, thanks."

Donia shrugs. "No problem. You seemed like a decent ally to have, so I spared you." She grins now. "Unlike the four I killed back there, not including that bitch." Four? Wow. So now I know that six are definitely dead. Who knows what's going on up there while we're safe down here. I say safe – there's only one entrance to the cavern and therefore only one exit. We should move soon. Still, I can't help but see what's in my pack. Its so heavy, there must be a decent amount of items in there. Unzipping the blue pack, I discover a dagger, which I give to Donia, two water bottles and some iodine, a pack of biscuits, a sheath for the dagger (which Donia swipes as soon as she lays eyes on it), some flint, a torch and... a rock?

I pick it up. No doubt this is what has been causing my back such pain. In disgust, I fling it into the wall, where it slides down and lands with a defeated sounding thunk. I glare at Donia before she starts laughing. "Well? What did you pick up?"

Still smirking, she shows me her bounty: a water jug, a knife, the dagger and sheath I just gave her, and two packs of crackers. Great. Still, it could be worse. I could be dead, after all.

We've spent too long here, I can tell. Donia's getting twitchy. Getting up, I move to the entrance of our little cavern. It's pitch black. You'd never see anyone with these dark suits on. Suddenly the torch in my pack makes sense. I click it on and the tunnel is illuminated. I motion to Donia and she follows me down the rabbit hole.

I guess I've done all right in the first part of the Hunger Games. A decent pack of supplies and an ally. It's all good.

Minus the rock, of course.


End file.
